


To Dust We Crumble

by cadkitten



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Alternate Worlds, Anal Sex, Beginnings, Biological Warfare, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Damian Wayne is Robin, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Dick Grayson is a Talon, DickDamiWeek, Drug Use, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Global Destruction, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Loss, Loss of Virginity, Loud Sex, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Character Death, Oral Sex, Thomas Wayne is Owlman, Violence, Wounds, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-10 20:52:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7860691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damian let himself ease into Talon's hold, allowed his eyelids to fall mostly closed as they stood there together, the wind starting to whip around them. His heart beat a frantic staccato in his chest and he <i>knew</i> he was walking into dangerous territory, <i>knew</i> he shouldn't be allowing this to happen... and yet, there was no force powerful enough to stop him. There was an ache in his heart and a silent acknowledgment that he'd likely never see <i>his</i> world again. Within that ache, he could only reach for the very clearly offered balm and cling to it without regret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For DickDamiWeek over on tumblr. Day 7: Talon!Dick and smut prompt: Loss of Virginity  
> Beta Readers: kate1zena  
> Song[s]: "Heathens" by Twenty One Pilots
> 
>  
> 
> **This will be 11 chapters long**

_Let them call him the furious robin, as he tweets on his vernal arrival, smashing down those who oppressed._  
_A migrant bird on passage, like an owl striking from the nightly sky, setting off in the dusk._  
-Edited version of [ The Eagle Owl by Jan G](http://allpoetry.com/poem/11681266-The-Eagle-Owl-by-Jan-G)

The emergency signal had gone up five minutes ago, every comm in the JLA buzzing to life with the frantic call of _invasion_ on the lips of Green Arrow, which probably said something that it was him who issued the call to arms. Bruce hadn't even hesitated, not one second of indecision before he'd taken off across the rooftops, leaving Damian to make his own decisions regarding the whole operation. No, "Stay here." No half-clipped instructions to go do something useless like he usually did. Not this time. That alone kick-started Damian into action. 

He took off across the rooftops toward one of Dick's hidden garages, knowing he'd be a better asset when no one knew about him. Well... no more than necessary. He pulled up his own comm-links to the Titans and the direct one to Dick, relaying the information he'd overheard from Bruce's link, from the lines he wasn't supposed to hear but had hacked into years ago; if only to have Batman's back no matter what went down.

When he dropped down through the skylight into Dick's makeshift garage, Dick was already waiting on him, astride his own bike. He only gave him a nod and flipped his visor down, revving his engine as Damian climbed onto his bike and started it up. The door rolled up and Dick took off, Damian hot on his tail, the door rolling back into place behind them as they darted through the Gotham night. 

Damian's comm sparked to life in his ear, Dick's voice smooth in his ear. "Still listening in on his line I see."

"-tt- As if you did not." Damian tossed back as they weaved between sparse traffic, headed for the pickup point Barbara had posted for them while he'd been en route to Dick's stash. Three more turns and Dick breathed out, "Hit the gas hard, we're going up the ramp. We'll need the speed to hit the deck at the right angle. Brake within the next half a second after hitting with full gas or we'll wipe."

Damian fell into pace beside Dick and with a little glance toward him, he bobbed his head, and they both revved the cycles up as far as it would go, hitting the end of the ramp up the docks just as the plane let down the cargo hold. Damian gauged it, ready for the breaks and ready to veer depending on what was inside the bay. Half a second or so on the ramp up into the cargo hold and Damian hit the brakes, letting himself go straight as long as he could before he absolutely had to bail. Turning the bike roughly to the right, he let it skid out and pushed off from it, tumbling out across the floor into a crouch as the bike spun out into wall of the plane with a dull thud. Pulling off his helmet, he looked toward where Dick had managed to get his stopped completely, barely an inch worth of space between him and the wall. 

Dick pulled off his helmet and glanced between the bike and Damian. "Was that entirely necessary?"

Damian shrugged, tucking the helmet under his arm. "Was leaving us half an inch of room to stop entirely necessary?"

"He's got you there," Wally's voice came dangerously close to Damian's ear and it took everything in him to not show how shocked he was by his presence right up in his space. _Damn speedsters_.

Dick huffed out half a laugh. "Whatever. Just hope you don't need it later. I'm not riding bitch so we all know where that leaves you." Dick paused, tucking his helmet under the seat, a half-grin on his face. "Or Wally could always _carry_ you."

Damian flipped him off, shaking his head as he looked around. "Where are the others?"

"On their way." Wally leaned back against the wall, crossing his ankles, his gaze intense on Damian. "You guys are the slow ones."

"Thanks," Dick came to a stop next to Wally, shoving him lightly. "I mean we needed the ego boost, really."

Damian crossed his arms tightly over his chest, irritation growing inside of him, though he was hesitant to put his finger on the _why_ exactly. "How long?"

"Ten minutes maybe at this speed," Wally offered.

"You could be there in a few seconds. You have better things to do than _keep us company_." His voice was like acid and he knew it, but he also couldn't seem to stop it from coming out that way around Wally. The guy was always kind to him, always kept up his good spirits no matter what Damian threw at him, but for some reason that always set him off even harder. 

"The Ocean might create a small problem. I've been... slower lately." For the first time Wally sounded put out, a little hesitant; enough so that Damian actually felt bad for bringing it up. Not that he'd known.

Reaching up to rub the back of his neck, he allowed himself a moment of weakness, visibly wincing and muttering out, "I... uh... sorry." Turning away, he headed for the wrecked bike, busying himself pulling it upright and assessing damage while he heard Wally and Dick whisper, just low enough he couldn't pick up the words. His anger flared again and he crouched beside the bike, tucking the helmet away and forcing himself to take steadying breaths. There was no basis for his anger at Wally; none at all. He just needed to calm down, that was all there was to it.

The rest of the trip sailed by, perhaps faster than he wanted it to. When they landed, it was on a rooftop, about a half block from the main action-point. Wally was off like a shot and after half a second of looking at one another, Damian and Dick set off in the same direction, falling easily into step, just like the good old days. 

Damian had grown into his own over the years, varied his style from what it had once been, but no matter how many years there were between his and Dick's days as Batman and Robin, he could always sync with him as if it had only been yesterday. Their minds focused alike, their bodies now nearly rivaling one another in musculature and speed, Damian's acrobatics less showy but still just as agile as Dick's own. 

They hit the action right into the midst of a fight that Damian was pretty sure Canary was damn near about to lose; which he deemed to be a _horrible_ thing, given her cry. He'd been subjected to it once and it had definitely cleaned his clock. Canary grabbed one of the enemies and damn near threw them toward Damian. "Aim to kill!" Another half second and then she hissed out, "I never saw a thing," as she ducked another one, tripping it and bashing its head down toward the pavement. 

Damian side-stepped and then drew his sword, taking the one he'd been passed off down without a kill, though he was sure it could be mortally wounded. It popped back up like nothing had happened and he aimed for the legs this time, cutting the hamstring and watching it only drag itself toward him as he backed up. "The hell are these?!"

A sickening crunch came from next to him and Damian spared Dick a glance, half-scared of what had just happened. He found Dick holding the lower jaw of the foe he'd been fighting, looking like he was about to be physically ill. It had been years since Dick had used that much force and Damian _knew_ that look; he'd had it on his face a few times in his life since he'd teamed up with the _real_ good guys.

"You've seen movies, make your own deductions!" Canary kicked one in the back of the head and Damian watched as the eyeball popped out of the guy's head she'd just kicked. He looked unfazed by it. Blanching, Damian turned and lobbed the head off the one he'd been dealing with, driving the point of his sword into the one Dick was still holding at arm's length. One more movement and he knocked the jaw out of his hand and leaned over, stabbing one coming up the side of the building in the head. "Tell me they are not doing what the movie freaks do."

"Biting? Turning people?" Canary paused next to him, slinging goo off of her hand from another that she'd punched through the head. "Nah. Not yet anyway. Just try to kick our asses in numbers."

Damian looked up, watching as a green rip appeared in the sky, hundreds of white lights streaking down.

"Oh shit." Dick's hand came to rest on his shoulder and Damian glanced at him, frowning and reaching up to rest his hand over Dick's own for half a second. "Let's get this done." With that, Damian was over the side of the building, free falling for a few stories before catching himself with the grappling gun, slinging over far enough to crash his boots into a few of the guys scaling the neighboring building. He repelled down and released the hook, darting off toward the edge of what he was recognizing as the main stage, all of their heavy hitters engaged, making waves of these partial-zombies fall backwards, only to be crushed in upon again and again.

Popping free three explosives from his belt, Damian judged distances and then armed one and threw it. It hit and exploded a second later, taking out about a dozen in one go. Two more well placed explosions and he took out a good fifty before he went back to his sword, charging and slashing at everything that moved around him, only hoping everyone would know to stay out of his way.

The sky opened up again and the beams lanced downwards just as Damian took the head off of one persistent son of a bitch. Searing pain hit his side and he heard himself scream, something he'd normally never have allowed himself to do, but this pain was too much, too intense to hold back anything.

The swarm thickened and Damian's vision swam as they came at him. Dick was there half a second later, shooting off his grappling hook, pulling them out of the midst of it and hitting the alley at the edge of it all. He squeezed Damian's shoulder, pressing a pack of gauze into his hand. "Patch up first." 

He was gone as quickly as he'd come and Damian was left ripping open the package and shoving the gauze against his side, his hands shaking he was hurt so badly. Taking in a hitching breath, he forced himself into the world inside his mind that didn't involve pain, the one he'd learned from the monks all those years ago up in the mountains. Lifting his head, he drew his sword again, steeled his resolve and charged back in.

It wasn't until gunshots rang out that Damian stopped moving again and even then it was only because the zombie - he couldn't stop thinking of them like that - he was holding crumbled to dust in his hands and a horrible warmth blossomed in his gut. Looking down, he could see the darker color spreading over his stomach, knowing he'd just been shot in the god's worst possible place to take a bullet. 

Even with his pain channeled, he began to breathe faster, his heart pounding harshly in his chest. The man aimed and pulled back the hammer and for the second time in his life, Damian could quite literally see the best images in his life starting to play out in his mind. He could see that beautiful smile on Dick's face as he handed him the first Christmas gift he'd ever received, the way Bruce had looked at him when he'd finally told him he cared, and the way Alfred had cried when Damian had come back to life. Anger flared sharp beneath it all and before he knew it, he had the man in the ally, his gun lost somewhere in the fray and Damian's sword backing him up toward the wall. 

Something exploded behind them and the whistle of shrapnel caught Damian's ear. He hit the deck, hearing the choked sound of the man who'd been in front of him. Looking up, he found him hanging limp from the wall, pinned clean through with a piece of metal piping. The bag at his feet emitted a shrill sound and Damian grappled for it, yanking it open and revealing what he instantly realized was a modified Mother Box. Hands shaking, he pulled it out and examined it through blurry eyes. He was about to pass out and he damn well knew it; the blood loss too great to simply push past. He opened the comm-link and managed, "Mother Boxes on men carrying guns. Took a hit but got the Mother Box. Taking my only option to destroy it." He hesitated and then cut the line to everyone but Dick, whispering, "No matter what... survive this." Lifting his sword, he plunged it down into the Mother Box, a shock wave blasting out from it and for a split second, Damian was floating in what he could only describe as static, and then he was out as if someone had flipped a switch inside him, fading into blissful nothing.

He hit something solid, hard enough to take what little air he had in his lungs right out of him and wake him up for just a fraction of a second. A pair of bright blue lenses glowed in the otherwise darkened area, the air smelling of sulfur with the faint undertone of old garbage. Then he was gone, the blackness swallowing him up once again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Seriously, go see this owl, it's glorious.](http://kidzone.ws/animals/birds/great_horned_owl.htm)  
>  Beta Readers: kate1zena  
> Song[s]: " Beyond the Realms of Death" by Judas Priest

The next time consciousness came to him, sensations of softness and warmth were beneath his back, the scent of something that could have potentially been coffee in the air, and the press of a cool rag to his forehead. Fingertips brushed over his cheek and then the bed springs protested as the person tending to him stood up. Damian's heart rate picked up. This wasn't how he was cared for inside the cave or within Wayne Manor. That certainly wasn't the scent of Alfred, Dick or even Bruce, and he damn well knew better than to open his eyes and give himself away just yet.

He waited as he heard the door open, the quiet steps of the second individual much different than those of the first. None of them were familiar to him. The first was similar to Dick's, nearly silent, but somehow different, as if he were wearing clunky shoes that Dick would never willingly wear. The second were quiet but definitely from that of a heaver person or someone wearing a hell of a lot of armor.

"How is he? Recovering yet?" There was a hint of worry in that voice that Damian wasn't sure how he felt about. It seemed genuine enough. 

His thoughts were cut off as the second person spoke, their voice _damn near_ Dick's, only with a little odd twist of an accent Dick didn't normally have, one Damian couldn't place. "I think he's close to waking up. The gunshot wound was a clean one, through and through, so we didn't have to dig around in there. But that burn on his side is still pretty nasty. No idea what he's been through, but I think we can be sure it wasn't pretty."

"Any word on that device he was carrying?"

The one that sounded almost like Dick snorted and Damian felt a little wave of amusement that he couldn't be anything but conflicted about. "Carrying? You mean the thing he'd stabbed with his sword? No idea. It's in for analysis, T-Force is doing a damn good job of recreating it virtually."

"You're still going to name the damn robot T-Force?" There was a tone of near-teasing, but also a gruffness that Damian couldn't help but liken to Bruce's. It was about as tender as Bruce got without someone dying on him and there was a familiarity to the banter that he couldn't ignore. 

"It's mostly titanium and it basically tried to take off your head when I miswired it to start with, what do you want me to call it? Mr. Gentle-hands?"

The quiet click of a tongue left Damian's heart hammering in his chest, a sound not so unlike his own when he was done bantering with Dick, when things needed to return to less strayed paths. He held back a shiver, the action tensing some muscles in the region of the burn and he let out a cry he couldn't have held back if his situation had been even direr than it - perhaps - was. He wasn't stupid, he knew what was going on here, though how he'd been lucky enough to end up with this world's version of Bruce and Dick, he had no idea. 

Shifting, he winced as he pried open his eyes and stared up into the face with the glowing blue lenses. He had to blink a few times and then gritted out, "Pain killers."

The other person darted from the room and he was left alone with who he was simply going to dub Alter-Bruce for the time being. He let his head fall back as he breathed through the pain, debating how much to say. He finally settled on, "I appeared... out of nowhere... yes?" His words were clipped, short from the level of pain his was experiencing. 

"Yes."

"Green light in the sky right before it?"

"Yes."

Damian gave a curt little nod and sucked in a breath as Alter-Bruce moved and the other's hand removed the bandage from his side. Cool fingers pressed against him and for a second he couldn't breathe before the pain began to ease. He closed his eyes for a moment, just letting it slide through him, marveling at the quickness of whatever they were using. Finally, "How bad is it?"

"Pretty bad." The one with Dick's voice spoke this time, urging Alter-Bruce out of the way and then settling on the edge of the bed where he'd been before, keeping his hand in place. "We can't do much in the way of regeneration, but... I hope this is helping? We're not too sure of your physiology and-"

" _Talon_." The voice was warning in the same way Bruce's was toward one of them when they said too much. Damian's eyes jerked between them, taking in what he could in the dimness of the room. A mask of silver and black on the man he'd dubbed Alter-Bruce, his goggles creating the blue glow. He wore the likeness of an owl on his chest and his uniform was so achingly close to some of Batman's from the past that Damian could feel the tightness in his throat at the mere idea of it. _Talon's_ , on the other hand, was all browns and tans, straps going every which way, holding various weapons in place, the wash of a variety of gold streaks over the uniform giving the impression of the sleek lines of a Great Horned Owl. Damian had seen a few of them up close over the years and this man's costume rang true to the regal and yet chaotic nature of the owl. The gold trim of the helmet lifting up in the image of the tufts on the owl's head, the swirl of browns and mixed in blacks and golds damn near following the nature of the owl's feathers, to the point that he didn't stop himself as he breathed out the genus and species under his breath, "Bubo Virginianus."

Talon tilted his head and Damian could hear the smile in his voice as he offered, "He's observant."

"What does the box do?" The words were clipped and Damian would have laughed at the similarities to Bruce if he'd been in a better head-space.

"It's a Mother Box. Alien tech. Rips holes between realities, that kind of thing. It is... like a living computer." Damian finally moved just enough to look down and see what Talon was doing to his side, finding he was pressing his hand over the wound, a metal glove-like object over his hand that was glowing a faint blue from under his palm. "Understand that this is not _my_ technology. I destroyed it in an attempt to stop an incoming invasion." His mind worked on overdrive, understanding he could be giving the very people who had caused all of their chaos all the information he had. But something about the way these two reminded him of Bruce and Dick allowed him to offer more information than he usually would have, as if he were giving a status report to Batman after patrol. "Our understanding of them is limited, but we have seen them become host to someone with a great mental control before. We have also seen them arise from two places, one of great hope and one of pure evil."

There was a moment of silence and then, "Your manner of dress. I assume not all people on your world dress like this?"

Damian _did_ manage a laugh this time. "No, they do not. I am Robin." He eased back, his energy rapidly draining from him. "I run with the likes of Batman and Nightwing." Turning his head, he gazed up at Talon, knowing inherently that he was looking right at him. "We fight for justice."

Talon's hand shifted, pushing up under the soft fabric that draped Damian's torso, the bandage peeling up from his gunshot wound. Talon's hand settled there and the sensation of relief tingled through him again. His voice was soft when he spoke up, the door closing behind Alter-Bruce. "Then by the grace of your actions, the proper two people have found you, Robin."

Damian closed his eyes, taking in a steadying breath before he just let himself fall back into the inky blackness of nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta Readers: kate1zena  
> Song[s]: "Sleep" by Poets of the Fall

The barest sliver of light between the heavy curtains brought Damian back amongst the land of the wakeful. He took a moment to get his bearings, established his level of pain, finding it dulled out considerably from what had burned in him before. He had the impression from his body that far too much time had passed between his last visit to consciousness. There was an ache in his muscles he'd only felt the one time he'd been nearly bedridden with pneumonia, thought it was distinctly less viral in nature, more due to a lack of movement.

Pushing himself upright, he very carefully pushed the covers aside and tested his feet against the floor. Sure he had a viable plan to catch himself that would not endanger his wounds, he eased up onto his feet and stood there for a minute, just getting used to the way his blood rushed in his body now, gaining some amount of stability back to a head that was perhaps none too pleased with his having been flat on his back for God knew how long. 

Finally, he began the shuffle off toward the door, gaining confidence in his footing along the way. By the time he'd found his way to a restroom and pulled himself back together into some semblance of being that was less of the horror show he'd found in the mirror, he allowed himself to start his exploration of the rest of the house. The bathroom and the bedroom were oddly in the same places as within Wayne Manor. The room beside his was sealed off, the door not budging and seemingly barred from the inside. In his world that had been Jason's room and it sent him to wondering if, perhaps, this world had found someone of a similar fate only they hadn't returned to them. He made a mental note not to ask, knowing the pain in Bruce's face at the mere mention of Jason's name, even with his return and having no desire to provide that to anyone else.

Two doors down, he found a room so neatly decorated it had to be Alter-Bruce's, there was no way he was believing it was Talon's - if he were to make the obvious assumption as to who _he_ was on this end of things. The hallway the other direction was nothing but a crumble of fallen stone, as if something had fallen on it and simply crushed the house in upon itself here, the stairs having narrowly avoided such a fate, the reinforcements to ensure it didn't cave in very clearly bracing across the stairway. He ducked under one beam, making the same familiar turns and finding that entire side of the house - including the kitchen and dining area - in the same state as the second floor. A glance at the ceiling showed the rest of the supporting structures, a desperate bid to keep the house together, was honestly a great feat of engineering. 

He made his way past the little laundry room, finding himself standing before the clock in the main room. Heart pounding, he shifted the clock to the same time as the one inside his version of this home. When it opened, he felt the pang in his heart, understood beyond a shadow of a doubt that the same tragedy had befallen this family as his father's own. Descending the stairs, he came out into a very gloomy version of the Batcave. There was no ridiculous giant penny or dinosaur, absolutely no track lighting, and every single thing in it seemed like it had been stabbed with a sad-stick. The cave itself even seemed darker. He could hear the rustle of bat wings and he wondered for a moment what had caused the owl motif over his father's favored bat theme. There was a path leading up from the center of the room, toward the same direction their own driveway came out of and the absence of a car told him all he really needed to know.

He moved to the bank of monitors, the technology different but achingly similar. None of the plugs were the same and the keyboard layout even different from their own, but the display that came to life beneath his touch of the desk reminded him of Bruce's setup. Live feeds from all over the city - one that looked very much more broken than his own Gotham - and a myriad of documents on green "rifts" that had occurred over this world's skyline in the past. Most referenced the same dates: one nearly a week before - that would have been his - and one so many years prior Damian wouldn't have even been a thought in Talia's mind at that point. He sank down onto the chair, pulling it forward and easing himself into the most comfortable position for his side and his stomach, reading over the articles.

He could hear the whisper of footsteps behind him and he breathed out, "I am aware that you are there." A pause and then, "You're louder than he is." He pushed the chair to turn around, finding Alter-Bruce standing a few feet away. He imagined somewhere behind the mask he looked shocked. "Now that I know for sure I am nowhere near my world... this is where I prove what I know and who I am. Talon. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, he is this world's Dick Grayson. Accent's all wrong, but his voice is unmistakable, regardless." 

He watched Alter-Bruce's arms cross, kept his face carefully devoid of any indication of his own amusement at the situation. "In my world... a version of you is Bruce Wayne, but I have a belief that _you_ are not. He chose a bat motif whereas you have clearly chosen an owl-based one instead. If my assumptions are correct based on the settings of the clock that allowed me access to this place, the way that you carry yourself, the extra weight of what I suspect is _age_ on your steps... then you are most likely to be Thomas Wayne, Bruce's father." 

There was a moment where Damian thought for sure he was about to get the shit beat out of him and then, "I am Owlman." He reached up and with a few flicks of his fingers and a tug, removed his mask, revealing his face. "You are correct. Bruce was my son."

Damian did not miss the use of the past tense and he allowed himself a moment of grief at this version of his father's passing. It was brief - nearly instantaneous - and then he eased one leg up on the chair, careful not to hurt himself as he moved. "I am Damian, Bruce's son. In this universe, I assume he is the one who died in the alley that night, not you and Martha?"

Pain lanced across Thomas' face as he moved to lean against the desk, settling the mask onto it so that he could grasp the side of the table with both hands. "They both were killed before I could stop the wretch who did it. Before I took his life with my bare hands and went to prison for that action for nearly ten years." Thomas glanced toward Damian, their eyes meeting and holding. "You look very much like my son did... older though. Perhaps how he would have looked if he'd lived."

Damian hesitated and then offered, "He was already training to live this sort of life by then, but in different ways than I have. I imagine he was larger than me, his muscles more defined... and our eyes," his hand came to hover lightly in front of his face before he dropped his hand away, "far different. I have pieces of my mother in me that will never be erased."

"Should we ever want to erase our mothers from us?"

"When your mother is a woman who placed a bounty on your head when you turned to the greater good instead of the good of a few... perhaps it would be warranted to not want to see her likeness in the mirror. However, I only wish to not see myself as her son, to one day _earn_ my place at my father's side." He didn't bother to state that it was only with the full atonement of his sins that he could accomplish such a thing. In the prevailing silence, he could hear the sounds of the cave, the flutter of bats, the quiet whisper of air from somewhere far away, and he found it comforting in a way he hadn't quite expected. "Your home crumbles. Your face has the look of a man who has seen a deeper hell than one should ever have to be dealt. This world... it dies, does it not?"

Bruce reached past Damian, hit a few keys and gestured. "See for yourself."

The stark difference in how Bruce would have handled all of this as to how Thomas was should have come as a surprise to Damian, but it didn't. Somehow, it was expected that Bruce would have been the one playing things closest to the chest, would have been the one hiding his secrets far deeper than anyone else, while his father did not. 

He turned, settling as he began to click through the files Thomas had opened for him. He found death and suffering in quantities that should have destroyed the earth far before now. Global distributions of biological warfare that left humanity crippled and changed, air that alternated between breathable and horribly toxic on hourly intervals. No crops survived on the outside of the earth's crust, only deep within the confines of man-made greenhouses, most of the pull of electricity going directly to sustaining the life of these plants. The rage of chaos that reigned over the whole of the world rivaled that of Gotham's usual presence in his own world and the lack of anywhere free from such grasps left Damian with a tight knot in his gut. 

"In my world, only Gotham dies. Her hope is on our wings. Here, the entire world is already dead, only the strongest are clinging to life. So what does that make you if you are not hope?"

Thomas' hand touched a key, the screens going dark, forcing Damian to look up into his face before he spoke one - achingly quiet - word. "Survival."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta Readers: kate1zena  
> Song[s]: " Fukai Toi" by Tosinn

Damian had spent hours going over all the information he could find on the state of this world, watching videos taken in the midst of the worst moments of this populations' lives. He watched their faces as they died, endured their horrors as some of them survived while others did not. He watched a world ravaged by war, plague, and famine. And then, he watched the tiny rays of _hope_ begin to blossom, joining forces in the night, taking on mantles nothing like those of his own superheroes, but stepping up all the same; most mere humans, without super powers, and a few - survivors of horrible government tests - who did. 

By the time he turned everything off and left the darkness of the cave, it was dark throughout the house. Only his knowledge of Wayne Manor let him navigate through without harm. He found himself on the terrace just through the bedroom on the opposite side of the hall from his own, his gaze on the vines twisting below, covering most of the ground in an impenetrable thicket. It was, perhaps, a better thwart to those wishing to come over the wall, but Damian found himself certain Alfred would have very surely had a heart attack before letting it get so horribly disgusting. 

A certain sadness gripped him as he slid his arms over his aching abdomen. The pain was rapidly starting to flair and he couldn't help but wonder where the device was that Talon had used on him. He shivered, reaching out to test the railing and then leaning on it once he was sure it wasn't about to topple under his weight. A soft _hoot_ met his ears and he turned his head, watching as an owl fluttered down off of the roof, making its way across the concrete toward him.

Damian kept himself still, watching her feathery ear tufts move in the breeze. She hooted again and he smiled, breathing out a soft, "Just as I thought. Bubo Virginianus." Kneeling down very slowly, he clenched his fist and then held out his arm, clucking his tongue. "Are you used to people, gorgeous?"

With another _hoot_ , the owl spread her wings and took to the air, gliding around the terrace and then - in a rush of feathers and flapping - came to land directly on Damian's shoulder. She nipped his ear in a light greeting - the way so many other birds had done to him over the years - and Damian smiled despite the blossoming pain in his abdomen. Carefully, he stood back up and leaned somewhat heavily against the rail. He reached up, lightly running his hand over her brown and black feathers, feeling their softness against the crook of his finger. 

She hooted twice and a moment later, he heard Talon's voice from somewhere behind him. "She likes you." The shadows shifted and Talon came to stand beside him, already devoid of mask, the glove Damian wanted to see in hand. "I suspect the pain is returning. Is it not?"

Damian gave a small nod, turning and lifting his shirt, watching as Talon began pulling the glove on. He sighed in relief when the bandage was pulled back and the cool touch came against his abdomen. "What's the technology behind this?"

Talon let out a soft, "Hmm. Are you sure you should be learning such things? Could alter your world too much when you return."

"I don't think it works like that. As far as I can tell this is not time travel." The barest flash of memory of Barry and his actions left him feeling slightly breathless. "That's dangerous. This... I am not sure."

Talon shifted, gently replacing one bandage and moving to the wound on his side, standing in front of him to get his hand on him at the proper angle. "That sounds like the voice of experience."

"Our timeline has been altered before. Changed and changed again." Damian eased himself closer to Talon, the press of the glove against his skin like pure relief. There was another soft _hoot_ in his ear and he allowed himself to actually _look_ at the man in front of him. He was nearly identical to Dick with the exception of the heavy scar running across one cheek. It still looked vaguely new, as if it could fade out if only given the time to do so. His gaze lingered a fraction too long on his lips before he met his stare, finding a darkness there that Dick's didn't hold. Like this man had seen a hell of a lot more horrible things in his life than Dick had and with this world, he could believe it. "You are his very likeness."

A small smile quirked Talon's lips and he breathed out a quiet, "Thomas informed me you made all the necessary deductions based off of only my voice." He shifted his hand to cover more of Damian's burn. "You and your me... were close?"

"In my world, he was the first Robin to Bruce's Batman. There was a time where Dick had to step in for Bruce and during that time, I was chosen as his Robin. You could say that creates a certain... bond." Damian reached down, gently moving Talon's hand up to the last sore spot of the burn, letting his eyelids flutter closed as the pain eased there, only the wound on his back aching now, though dully in comparison.

"It has to be a great bond for it to translate over into your inherent trust of me." The comment was off-hand, said in a way that kept Damian at ease despite the fact that it should have had him running for the hills. 

"I do not see much of a choice. I have been lucky enough to find two people who are not only caring enough to bring me back to health and not fear my very presence, but who are either in the linage as - or directly correlate to - my own family. I could not have hoped for better circumstances."

Talon shifted, placing the bandage back down and then moving to his back, removing the bandage there and placing his hand over the wound. A moment later, his other hand trailed over the thick line of scar down his spine. "May I ask what happened?"

"A tragedy." Damian reached to his shoulder, coaxing the owl off onto his hand and then murmuring, "Pull it the rest of the way up." Talon did so and Damian could hear his breath hitch. "My entire spine had to be replaced for me to ever walk or feel again. Of course it was not without cost; one far greater than monetary."

"But you survived it... and you walk... and fight in the night just as we do?"

Damian hid the smallest of smiles as he stroked the owl's head ever so gently. "Yes. I have been most awarded, despite my upbringing prior to living with father."

Talon's fingers slid down his spine, letting his shirt fall over his hand that still remained over the wound on his back. "Only those most deserving receive such gifts."

"Perhaps." Damian held out his arm and the owl took off with a screech, diving down toward the brambles, presumably on her way toward her dinner. "She have a name?"

"No. I've never seen the point. I always expect her never to return. She is an oddity in this world."

Damian considered his words and then with half a smile, he murmured, "Only the most deserving receive such gifts," and he could nearly _feel_ the intensity of Talon's smile.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta Readers: kate1zena  
> Song[s]: "Haunted" by Beyonce

The sun glinted off of the Mother Box as Damian cradled it in his hand, turning it over and over as he examined it. He'd been staring at it for hours, jotting notes down on the little pad of paper he'd found tucked away in the depths of a drawer in what he was coming to think of as _his_ room. The computer had made quite the pull-apart of the cube but hadn't been able to offer him much in the way of fixing the thing up in a way that would make it work again. 

He'd already spent days working on it in the cave, reattaching everything his sword had severed. From a mechanical standpoint, it was whole again. But from a _living_ standpoint, he'd killed it and since he didn't have a firm grasp on how they were nearly counted as sentient, he had no idea how to fix that part of it. That's where this brainstorming session came in: sitting around with the owl perched on his shoulder, the softest of _whoo_ s coming from her every now and then as she slept happily on him. He had one knee pulled up to ease the pain of sitting on the windowsill rather than the bed. Chairs seemed hard to come by, as did most wooden objects, which led him to believe there was no heat here in the winters, though admittedly that was something of an extrapolation. 

The owl gave two soft _hoot_ s and Damian breathed out a quiet, "Thank you, Guardian." She gave him a little affectionate nip and then settled again, one wing draped over his back, the other nearly covering her face as she settled in for the long haul. "Yes, it is my turn to watch you." 

A rustle of fabric and Talon was leaning against his door frame, lazily rapping his knuckles against the wood. "Talking to her?"

Damian glanced up from the box, making one last note without so much as looking down at the pad of paper. "Yes. She has a name now. Guardian." He slid the paper and pen under his leg so it wouldn't flutter away in the light breeze, letting the Mother Box rest against his thigh. "I have not arrived at the proper deductions regarding the operation of the Box." He frowned a bit, turning his head to look out at the overgrown yard. "There is something _living_ about it, but I do not know how to replace that once it has gone."

The door closed and a moment later, Talon was kneeling at his side, pulling his gloves off and tossing them onto the floor next to his face mask. "I never stated this, but the night you came in, we verified there are certain traces of a very distinct energy where you appeared. Those are... consistent with another green light some years ago."

"I saw the work on his computer while you were both out the first night I was here." Damian turned to look at Talon, finding the eyes starting up at him darker than usual. "A detective never leaves a stone unturned for long."

A certain mirth passed over Talon's features. "Agreed. Which is why I have been looking into the older case. Thomas... he has _other_ things he must attend to, some of which do not agree too well with my stomach." He gave him an apologetic look, a lift of one shoulder. "So I have been digging for more information. I believe there's another box somewhere on our world. There have only been two reported lights, both of them described as rifts. So unless whoever had it left another way... it should still be here."

"Perhaps they are equally as trapped as I." Damian moved to put the box down, leaning over and hissing out a breath at his side. "Was there a white light? When I came down?"

"No."

"What about on the other one? Would have been one or multiple shots of brilliant white light. Sort of like lightening but straight down." Talon shook his head and Damian settled back, Guardian giving him a nip for having moved and disturbed her sleep. He lightly touched her neck and breathed out, "Humans must move sometimes, Guardian. I am no post." Another, lighter nip and Damian eased back against the window frame. "That's what happened on ours before horrible creatures came in mass quantity to fight us. Others had these boxes and kept opening the rifts, letting them in. It was an attack... and with all of your world's issues, I wondered if perhaps..." he trailed off, watching the way Talon's face fell, the way he gave Damian the most heart wrenching of all looks. 

"No. We have made our own hell without the intervention of other worlds to create it. It... bodes well, I believe, for yours, that it takes forces from outside to do something like what you have seen of ours. No matter how bad, it must be better than this. Is it not?"

"Only if my actions helped them to survive it." Damian rested his head back against the windowsill, his hand going to his side. "The pain of one of those white lights still aches. If I'm honest, it feels like a piece of me is somewhere else. As if it is aching and rotting in another world and I am left to feel the pain of it."

The soft clink of metal urged Damian to draw his shirt up, tucking it beneath his arm and carefully peeling up the bandage, knowing the angry, fleshy red of it was still there. The cool press of Talon's hand was there a moment later, the soothing flow of pain relief gliding through him. "Is this... addicting? Or am I truly in this much pain?"

"There are no side effects of the glove. We have been using them for years and when your wounds are gone, you will not want for its effects." Talon eased closer to him, his free hand resting on Damian's thigh as he moved to get the right angle on the next part of the wound. "You are taking less and less energy from it each time, so you _are_ healing. Just... slowly."

The touch sent a whole other feeling skittering through Damian's veins and he couldn't help but stare at the point where they came into contact. He was _familiar_ with this sensation, perhaps more so than he wanted to be when it came to certain people in his life, but it was odd feeling it for someone he was barely beginning to know. "So... this Box, where do we believe it to be?" 

His gaze flicked up to Talon's eyes, finding his expression unreadable, closed off in a way that reminded Damian more of Bruce than of Dick. Talon visibly swallowed, Damian's eyes darting down to take in the action and he allowed himself a moment of weakness, an instant in which things he'd only entertained in the darkness of his own mind were brought dangerously close to the surface. With a breath, they were gone, tucked away again and he looked back out toward the yard, ignoring that he'd gotten no reply to his question, as it had only been a distraction anyway. An ill-effective one at that.

They remained in silence until Talon had completed the session of pain relief on Damian's body and only then did Talon speak. "I'm on the trail of it, but it would not be an easy trip. An item last described as a box of great sorcery, emitting a clicking sound, was last seen before it was stolen from a museum in what is left of Blüdhaven."

Damian's head jerked back toward Talon, a start in his heart forcing his mind to realize he wasn't at home and he was staring right at this world's Dick Grayson. "What's left of?"

"Several well-placed explosives nearly decimated it and the population about three years ago. Nothing anyone could have done. Those of us who rose up... we are only so few and too many places to be. Most of us - myself included - were fighting along the coast, taking down those who would have wiped the entire continent off the map if they'd had the chance. One city... is a huge price to pay, but a smaller one than the threat of what would have come if we had not remained as we were."

Damian's head bobbed. He understood that better than he wished he did. Having to give something up for the better of the overall. Leaning his head back and closing his eyes, he whispered, "I thought I was going to die." A beat of a moment between words. "When I put my sword through the box, it was with the hope that I'd give them a fighting chance, taking out even one of the rifts, one of the things producing hundreds of those monsters. I told them what they needed to know, said my goodbyes..." he shrugged, "and then did what had to be done." He rolled his head to the side and gazed at Talon, feeling the sheen of tears in his eyes and for the first time not caring. "Even if I had died, I would not have found regret in my actions. I only wonder if it was enough."

"To save them?" Talon's voice was gentle, his hand back on Damian's thigh, gently squeezing.

"No. Enough to atone." 

There were no more words, no offer of false words or of questions as to what Damian had to atone for. There was only silence and Guardian's soft sleepy _hoot_ into the rapidly growing darkness.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta Readers: kate1zena  
> Song[s]: "The Space In Between" by How to Destroy Angels

Damian hunched over the bench, his fingers working in the air over where the Mother Box sat, the green layers of computer images above it coming away as he dug down deeper into its core. He'd already done this at least ten times already, each time ensuring he was missing absolutely nothing about it, each time _certain_ he was. He pulled back the final image and gritted his teeth, finding the small cube at the center. "Computer, do another scan of this box, this time replicate scan to specifications Damian Alpha Sigma Three." He watched as the scan progressed, his hands well out of the way, knowing what the beam would do to flesh and blood. 

The cube was once again displayed and Damian let out a little growl, settling back as the computer read-out informed him it was a solid cube of an unknown metal and gave him the exact measurements he already knew by heart. He'd tried everything on this damn cube already. He had run every test imaginable beyond physically starting to break down the Mother Box to get to it. With all the careful repair he'd done, he had no desire to undo it just to get to the unscathed _heart_ of the Box. That was all he could think of it as now. Perhaps it was the piece that housed whatever it was that he'd harmed so completely that it no longer functioned, no longer clicked when he attempted to talk to it, no matter the language he used. 

"Majdoube," he breathed out, reaching to rub across the bridge of his nose as he pushed up from the only chair he'd managed to scavenge down here. Damn thing rocked like it was going to fall apart at any minute; as far as Damian could tell, there wasn't a single thing down here to repair it with. For all the technology, everything mechanical was limited to what was physically attached to the robot - T-Force - and was entirely unable to be removed without harming the structure of the thing. 

Now familiar footfalls sounded behind him and Damian glanced over his shoulder, offering a quiet, "Among the living again?" It'd been nearly twenty four hours since he'd heard the commotion of Thomas coming back in from whatever he'd been out doing and he'd heard Talon going nearly mad trying to fix him up. If he hadn't thought his own brand of medical care useless without supplies to back it up, he'd have gotten up to help; but he had simply laid there, listening to the hubbub until it had been over and done with.

"Nothing all that unusual." Thomas gave a vague wave toward Damian's midsection. "Given the lack of fear you had over your own wounds, I would say you understand the risks of our jobs."

Damian huffed out a quiet sound that might have been a laugh if he'd given it the time to be. "Yes, I would say so." He returned to glowering at the Mother Box. "I have not found a way to - for lack of a better term - bring it back to life." He almost wanted to talk about the other potential Box, but he knew better, understood that Talon was sharing information that perhaps even Thomas did not know about. He wasn't sure why all the secrets over it, but he also knew he didn't have years of understanding Thomas and this version of Dick's relationship. So he defaulted to allowing Talon to make the call on that particular case.

"Perhaps, like the rest of us who live, it cannot be brought back once dead."

Damian shifted, leaning on the table, running his tongue over the inside of the lower row of his teeth before he huffed out a quiet, "-tt- Some of us can." He watched the light of surprise in Thomas' eyes, found himself captivated for an instant and then looked away again. "There are ways. At least on my world, some of us are lucky enough to receive a second chance."

"Bruce?" Thomas' question was one born from a painful place deep inside of him and it showed in the way he voiced the single word, something that struck Damian to his core.

"In a way. But not from that night. He _survived_ that. It turned him to the path of justice. Justice for you and Martha. Justice for everyone who could not save themselves." He hesitated, not sure how much to reveal about himself, but wanting to give this much to Thomas, knowing how it felt to lose someone close to you, having been through it too many times in his life already. "He taught me how to use my skills to protect, to try to save Gotham and her people."

"Is he a good man? Beneath the seal of justice and the guise of what he's doing... is he truly good?"

Damian allowed himself a smile. "He is one of the best men I know. He has his set of rules and he does not cross them, nor does he allow those who will stand at his side to do so. The law allows him to remain because of those ideals, allows him to practice his brand of vigilante justice. So, yes, Mr. Wayne, I believe your son is a good man."

Thomas rested his hands on the edge of the table, just beside where Damian rested. "If you ever make it back to him... you tell him his father would have been proud of him."

"I will." Damian watched the way Thomas' face threatened to crumble, the way his mouth pulled tight and he had to swallow before he pulled back and turned to walk away. Settling back down in the chair, Damian sighed, easing his chin onto his palm, elbow propped up on the table. He wasn't sure what good looking at it again was going to do, but he'd certainly keep right on trying.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta Readers: kate1zena  
> Song[s]: "Burn" by In This Moment

"One." Damian took a step forward on the worn-down mat, his foot making solid contact with it, though not a single sound from his footfall could be heard. His sword jabbed forward as he breathed out a careful, "Two." A sweeping turn into a crouch with barely any wince, though his side still wasn't _looking_ any better. "Three." There were moments it still felt like he'd been set on fire, but for the most part, it was doing better. The gunshot wound had already moved on to the scaring stage and he was sure his side was forever going to look like he'd lost a battle with the wrong end of a giant iron. For his life, though, that was a small price to pay. "Four." He spun up from the ground, sword stopping an inch from Talon's neck, his face a calm mask at the shocked look he received. "Sneaking up on the person training. Is that good practice?"

Talon gently pushed the sword down, looking between it and Damian's face before he stepped fully onto the mat, easing a pair of sai from the holster strapped across his back. He gave a little jerk of his chin. "Take me on, _Robin_." 

Damian took a few steps back and eased his sword over his forearm, resting it there as he bowed to him. "Flats of blades, reserve a strike if it will actually harm and hold so the opponent knows they would have been beaten. First to find a kill zone wins."

Talon crossed his sai over his chest, giving a half bow. When he came back out, the weapons went to his sides. "I accept your terms." Louder, "Fight."

Talon circled Damian, who simply stood where he was, his grip on his sword exactly as it needed to be, his senses kicking into their usual state, one he had been lax on since he'd been here. The instant Talon was beyond his field of vision, he came at Damian, who neatly side-stepped, only blinking at Talon as he plowed past him. He thwacked his sword against the back of his leg, the flat of the blade stinging. He'd felt that sensation too many times on his own and knew how damn startling it was. 

In an instant, Talon was on him, moving like lightning, quiet as a whisper of air. If Damian's senses had not been what they were, he would have never known he was there. The speed and agility reminded him of some bizarre combination of Dick _and_ Bruce and it became harder to side-step him the closer he pushed his way in. The fight began in earnest and Damian could feel the invigorating sensation of facing someone so close to a match for him once again. They landed a few physical blows, the side of one sai slapping his arm and Damian let his sword go, knowing it would have been deep enough to make him let go. With a snarl, he spun around, caught Talon in the gut with one foot, doubled him over, and then grabbed his hair, wrenching it back and slamming his hand forward, only to stop it just against the tip of his nose, breathing out, "My kill."

Talon let his hands rest to the side, sai resting in his palms but his grip not tight. "Your kill. My yield." Damian let go, taking a step back and then holding out his hand, but Talon stood up neatly without it. "You've got some fight in you."

"Some?" Damian picked up his sword. "Remember I took a bullet and an alien light beam that left me with an agony I've had to learn to channel. I've been out of the game for what... almost two months now?"

"Next week will be two months." Talon eased his sai back into his holster. "Would you like to come with us tonight? See what _this_ Gotham has become? I would have been going stir crazy by now if I were you."

"I spent an entire year of my life in a monastery. Two months is hardly enough time to find that level of restlessness." He considered for a moment and then, "My suit is still in shreds as I have not bothered to attempt to fix it."

Talon shifted, giving Damian a rather obvious once-over. "Oh, I think you'll find a lot of my things will fit you." He turned, walking away towards the one room Damian hadn't explored down here. "Let's take a look, shall we?"

Damian followed after him, glad the pain in his side was still being held mostly at bay for the time being. Inside the room, he found an array of weapons and pieces of armor. 

"You've been wearing my clothing since you got here and I think it fits well enough the rest of this should be just fine for you." He gestured around. "Take what you want."

Damian moved around the room, selecting a pair of skintight leggings in off-black, a shirt in a lighter tan that held a certain amount of armor in it, what felt like Kevlar, a pair of brown suede boots that seemed to be exactly his size, and a strip of white cloth he knew he could fashion into a cape. He began to put it all together, stripping of his other clothing without a second thought. Talon dumped some undergarments onto the small table, piling on a few thigh holsters as well as one across-body that would allow him to put his sword in it. A pair of brown gloves and a pair of the silver mirrored goggles Talon wore later, Damian had a nearly complete outfit. 

Once he was done pulling it all on and synching things into place, he settled the goggles over his head, resting them in his hair. "Ready to bring the chaos to Gotham?"

Talon laughed in a way that made Damian instantly think of Dick and he could feel his heart wrench painfully in his chest, though he kept his face absolutely devoid of any of his inner turmoil. Talon pulled one last thing off the shelf over his head and moved to strap the belt around Damian's waist. When he was done, he touched each pouch. "Flash bombs. Your goggles are night vision, don't do it with them on or you'll blind yourself. I suggest turning your back if you have to use them. A few throwing stars, there aren't many, so pick them up when you can get them back without endangering yourself. What little medical supplies we have left, just some basic antiseptic and gauze. A rebreather for when the air goes to hell." He touched and held the last pouch for a moment, looking Damian right in the eyes, his voice low. "I never gave you this. It's for the pain in your side. It's our spare. Only use it if you have to or my ass will be strung up to next week, got it?"

Damian gave a small bob of his head. "Understood."

Talon turned and headed for the door. "He's already out there, has been for a few hours doing the dirty end of shit. Now we go find him and hope he's done with that."

Damian followed after him, almost grinning when he saw the matte black bike parked at the edge of the driveway up out of the cave. He slid on behind Talon, watching as he pulled on his full mask and eased the goggles down. He did the same, keeping his eyes closed until he felt that they were moving. Once they hit air, he opened his eyes, clinging to Talon's back as they raced through the streets. He could see the ruin of the world around him, the soot-filled alleyways, the grime that coated the city worse than he'd ever seen it in his version of Gotham. The scent of blood invaded his nostrils at nearly every turn and the sheer fact that it _could_ be smelled over the horrible stench of excrement said something horrible about this place.

His prediction that Gotham was dying - that their whole world was - had been, perhaps, an understatement now that he saw it from this angle. It was worse than any footage Damian had ever seen in his time, even the third world countries, filled with the fall-out ash of an erupted volcano had nothing on this. Post war-ravaged and irreparably damaged, Damian honestly wasn't sure what they could possibly be fighting for up here anymore. He was nearly certain even Bruce would have backed away from it all by now, given up the last feeble shreds of hope, and that stuck in his gut like a knife. 

Determination filled him as Talon sped through the nearly-empty streets. Whatever they were doing out here, he had to help them save it while he was stuck here. If for nothing else than to continue to atone for his own sins, his own past. 

Somewhere a woman screamed and Talon veered off-course, heading toward the sound. Another shrill scream rent the air and Talon slammed on the brakes, off in a second, racing toward a building. Damian took a second to assess the situation - something Bruce had drilled into him - and then he made a leap for the fire escape ladder, pulling it down and scaling it in an instant. Up three stories, he found the proper window, wide-open, curtain billowing in the breeze. The body of a man lay on the floor between the couch and what Damian was sure had once been a television set, blood seeping from a wound in his head into the carpet. He took in the room, dashing soundlessly across the carpet, kneeling to check the man for a pulse. Finding none, he hedged along the wall, pausing and sinking into the shadows when the front door opened. Seeing Talon, he pulled himself from the shadows long enough to gesture to the man and shake his head, then nod toward the back rooms. 

Together, they made their way through the house, ending up with only two rooms left to check. The woman's scream came again and Talon shoved open the door, Damian darting in. The woman stood in front of the mirror, her fingers sinking into what had once been the space for her eyes, seeming to want to pry her very face from her bones. She screamed again as she tugged, the sound horribly forlorn, sending all of Damian's hairs to stand on end. No one else was in the room, nor the house. 

Talon stepped around her, picking up a small canister from the sink, holding it out for Damian to see the label: _NX++_ scrawled across it. Before Damian could so much as blink, Talon had driven one sai through her spine, right at the base of her skull. The woman went limp in his arms and he eased her to the floor. "The drug... when it reaches addiction point can drive a person mad. It is all that is left of what once was a thriving realm of psychological _enhancement_ drugs manufactured for our people. It provides euphoria... until it doesn't."

Pulling his sai free from her brain, he wiped it off on one of the hand towels and tossed it over her body. "There are no police, no law... no judge and jury and certainly no more mental institutions. It's been years since any of that existed." He stood in a way that made Damian understand he was looking right at him, _knew_ his gaze was begging him to understand. "We _are_ all of those now. We are all that is left between the people who remain and the end of everything."

Damian turned away, picking his way across the bathroom tiles and then coming to stand in the hallway for a moment, hearing a cry from the only room left. "You owe me no explanation. I am an outsider here." He crossed the hallway, pushing open the door, finding a child who couldn't have been more than five clinging to a dirty blanket, sitting on her bed. The instant their gazes met, she was up and across the room, arms open wide the whole way. Damian bristled, but he didn't strike. He had no way of knowing if something horrible was to come of this, no way of knowing what was _really_ happening in their world, but he had to believe this child saw him as a savior until he was proven otherwise. 

Her arms wrapped around him and she tucked her face against his side, sobbing hysterically. He rested one hand on her back, looking up as Talon came to stand beside him. "You are one of us now... at least tonight." He reached down and gently pulled her from Damian's side, settling her on his hip as he walked toward the front door. "Now we find her a new home."

It didn't take long. Three doors later and an elderly woman answered the door, her face falling into a mask of pain as she whispered in a language Damian did not know. Talon responded and Damian got the idea the woman knew this kid's mother had been taking the drugs, had perhaps expected this to happen. She took the child from him and Talon handed her something from his belt before they were off down the hallway. 

"What did you give her?"

"Credits. Enough for a month for the child." Talon pushed open a door and began to make his way down the stairwell. "Welcome to this world, Damian. I can only pray yours has not fallen so far."

Damian waited until they were on the bike, just meandering the streets at an easy pace before he spoke. "Ours is full of evil people, sinful things... but there is still hope for it. This place is our worst nightmare."

"Ours as well." Talon pulled up next to what looked suspiciously like a sign for a nude bar and got off the bike. "I saw the look on your face in the bathroom, but you have to understand. It is up to us to pass judgment in this world. If we do not, no one will."

Damian set his jaw and then gave a small nod. "Please understand that I will not be the one to pass it. I will allow you - all of the people like you - to pass it as is necessary, because this is not my world. But I have sworn a vow and I will not forsake it now."

Talon turned away. "That look, Damian... it was the look of a man who has taken life before, who knows the pain of such an action. What changed your mind?"

Damian touched his side for a moment, memories invading for a singular instant before he replied. "There is a lot I have to atone for, a great many sins I committed under the guise of a _good_ that was nothing but a selfish play by my own blood. I have shed their name and taken the other half of my bloodlines as my _only_ attachment now. I went from working for the people who would create a world such as this, to the side that will save it from such a fate. My vow... is to the people of the world and I will never break it again."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta Readers: kate1zena  
> Song[s]: "Heartache (Studio Jam Session Ver,)" by ONE OK ROCK

_Thinking of you is like twisting my head around like an owl.  
Hoping to see the past behind me.  
-[Turn Off the Lights](http://hellopoetry.com/words/14519/owl/poems/)_

Damian stood on the terrace, night slowly falling over Gotham as he watched the sun fade down behind the horizon. He seemed to get lucky with the bouts of being able to stand on the terrace without the rebreather, picking the right times to do it. He realized now how lucky he'd been coming out here the first time without really thinking about the poisons in the air. Really, he'd been having an easy time of it all the way around and he realized that now that he'd been out with them on patrol a few times. It could go hours without any issue and then abruptly no one could breathe, everyone unable to even draw in a single breath until the rebreathers were in place. 

All the same, he liked it out here. He hadn't told anyone, but he'd been keeping Guardian in his room, knowing she was smart enough to have lived this long with the air being so toxic, but he feared for her all the same, allowed her to remain when she wished and let her out whenever she tapped at the window to leave. She was perched on the railing beside him for the time being, quietly preening as he gazed out toward the fading sun, wishing like hell he and Talon had found the right strings to pull on the Box.

The longer he remained, the more and more he found out what grief truly felt like. It was a different sort from the grief of slaughtering nearly an entire people. It was different from the way his gut hurt when he thought of all the wrong he'd done before his father had come into his life. This was something he could only describe in a way that he'd never thought he could have possibly felt. But things changed... _people_ changed, he more than most. And this... this was heartache. It was longing and a dull throb of _loss_ that he knew he'd feel forever if he were to remain here for the rest of his life.

He sensed Talon before he heard him, before Guardian even let out her quiet warning. Still, he said nothing, not playing all of his cards in that department. He wasn't sure he ever would.

"She really is a guardian, isn't she?"

Damian let himself smile just the slightest bit. "Hence the name."

Talon settled against the railing next to him. "You realize she never did this for anyone else? She just sort of hung around until you showed up. Like... she was waiting on you."

"Sentimental." Damian glanced toward Talon, found him clad in only a pair of thin sweats and a tank top, his hair still wet from the shower. His gaze caught on the lazy smile he had plastered across his lips, swallowed thickly at the memories it brought up: the want, the ache of words never spoken... the _regret_. His heart felt like it would burst right out of his chest simply to escape this pain and he had to force himself to breathe as he looked away, back toward where the sun's last rays were fading out. 

"Tell me about him."

"You already know who he is. I told you, he's Nightw-"

"Not like that." Talon turned to face the grounds as well, his elbows propped on the railing. "I mean the deeper parts of it. I don’t want to hear about training or how good of an acrobat he is or any of that." He was quiet for a moment and then, softer, "I want to know about the man who could have stirred up such intensity in you."

Damian let his gaze fall to his hands, allowed his world to shrink down to his own memories. Maybe it wasn't wise to speak about him to the man who shared his face and his name. Maybe it wasn't all that smart to show his hand in the way he was about to, but he couldn't have stopped the swell of words if he'd wanted to. Though, if he were honest, he _wanted_ to tell someone everything he'd ever hid about Dick.

"He's the brightest light I know. There's just this _intensity_ inside of him that no one else could ever touch. No matter what has ever happened to him, he comes back from it and finds that piece of himself. His own parents died in front of him and yet," Damian shook his head, "he's always been like this. Like he won't let the world get him down. He's a bit of a smart-ass and always chock-full of jokes. Usually horrible ones that only make you laugh because you can't believe he'd actually say them out loud, but... I miss it." 

Clasping his hands, he took in a shaky breath. "I miss him more than anyone else. I can still see his smile and I can hear _his_ voice when I close my eyes to go to sleep. He will not leave me." Letting his hands dangle free, he swallowed back the swell of emotion. "I wonder sometimes if he thinks of me; if I haunt him the same way, you know?"

Talon slid his arm over, pressing against Damian's own, his hand upturned, an offering. "I wondered why you wouldn't call me by my name when you've known it since you arrived here. It was so easy for you to refer to Thomas that way, even to start referring to _your_ family by their names rather than their alter-identities. But me... you avoided it."

Damian took his hand, letting their palms press against one another, letting himself feel the anchor of touching someone else in such a way after so long. The breeze picked up and he heard Guardian hoot, knew they only had a few more minutes before the air turned sour. "I'm not sure I could speak his name... not anymore." At least not without it breaking him to his very core.

Talon's fingers laced with his own, holding on tight. "You love him, don't you?"

Damian's breath hitched and before he could stop himself, he heard the words leaving his lips, felt the freedom of their expression. "More than he'll ever know."

In an instant, Talon had Damian in his arms, had him held flush against him, one hand on his waist, the other gently trailing over his jawline. "One day, you will tell him, Damian. When you get back to him, I want you to promise me that you'll admit the world to him. Your version of me," his thumb ghosted over Damian's lips, "he's _everything_ you need. If he's half the man you believe he is, then he is worthy of your love and he damn well deserves to know it."

Damian let himself ease into Talon's hold, allowed his eyelids to fall mostly closed as they stood there together, the wind starting to whip around them. His heart beat a frantic staccato in his chest and he _knew_ he was walking into dangerous territory, _knew_ he shouldn't be allowing this to happen... and yet, there was no force powerful enough to stop him. There was an ache in his heart and a silent acknowledgment that he'd likely never see _his_ world again. Within that ache, he could only reach for the very clearly offered balm and cling to it without regret. 

When their lips met, it was _his_ doing, his actions that pulled him just barely onto the balls of his feet to seal their lips together. When Talon's hands grasped him, lifted him and urged his legs around his waist, he simply let it happen, not caring how it would have made him look. They stumbled inside, the flap of Guardian's wings telling Damian that she'd followed them. 

Damian's back hit the bed and Talon kicked the door shut behind him, paused just long enough to strip off his tank top and let it fall to the floor. He didn't even bother to close the door to his bedroom and Damian wondered if he simply didn't care if Thomas saw or if he was that sure he wouldn't be coming up here anytime soon. Not that it mattered. Nothing else mattered right then.

There was no hesitation in Talon's actions, his pants following just as quickly as his top had disappeared and then he was tackling Damian's clothing, focusing on his pants while Damian struggled out of his shirt, huffed as he threw it further up the bed somewhere. By the time his pants were gone, he was already half hard, his heart hammering in his chest.

The instant Talon was over him, Damian reached for him, pulling him down until they were pressed against one another, his hand cupping the back of his neck to kiss him more forcefully than before. It wasn't gentle and it was anything but _love_ , but it was also exactly what he needed. As their bodies met, euphoria flooded through him and he allowed his mind one last moment to think about the man he was missing so very much. He allowed those strings to be tugged once more before he released them, focusing only on Talon. He could think of him no other way, could not allow himself to blend the two together. Not now, not ever. 

When they broke apart, it left Damian gasping, Talon flipping him over, pulling his ass up by way of his hands on his hips. Warm breath glided over his ass and then Talon's mouth was _there_ and Damian was shaking from the intensity of it. His hands fisted the thin sheet on the bed, his back arching enough to stretch the scaring along his side, but he didn't notice an ounce of pain from it right then. 

Talon's tongue worked something that _had_ to be magic on Damian until he was nothing more than a trembling mess, damn near sobbing against the bed it felt so good. When he could stand it no longer, when he needed _more_ , he allowed himself a plea, a desperate, "Neekini!" though he knew he hadn't a prayer of Talon understanding him.

Except that _he did_. Talon eased up from behind him and Damian heard the pop of a lid, and then his cock was pressed against his ass, all warmth and _incredible_ as he began to push in. Damian shoved his face against the mattress and allowed himself to nearly _scream_ his pleasure, gasping out, "Yes... yes... gods yes," as he did his damn best not to fuck himself back on Talon's cock.

Talon held himself still once he was fully inside, his hand sliding over Damian's thigh and then taking his cock in his hand, slowly stroking it as he breathed out against his shoulder, "I may not understand the language you speak at times, but context is everything, gorgeous."

Damian let out something that could have been a laugh if it hadn't been most of a moan as Talon's hips moved, his cock pulling out and sinking back in with the action. Panting against the bed, he closed his eyes and managed, "Please."

"Your wish is my command... but it'd help to know what you want." Talon shifted his hips again and Damian damn near saw stars. 

His cock throbbed between his legs and his body felt so incredibly _full_ he was sure he was going to lose his mind before they were done. "That. Anything. _Something_."

Talon's hands moved to pull his ass up further, holding his hips tight as he began to well and truly fuck him. The slick sound of their union would have been enough to drive Damian absolutely crazy and the _sensation_ of it was a million times better than he'd ever imagined it would be. Trembling, he shifted his hips experimentally and then, with a gasp, began to help Talon's movements, fucking himself back on his cock, not bothering to hold back any sound he wanted to make, uncaring who would hear. Even if Thomas gave him the strangest looks the next time he saw him, he didn't give a _shit_ right then. 

"Damian..." Talon's voice was strained, desperate-sounding, and Damian knew he was already close. He dropped his head to hide the smile on his face, stealing away the knowledge that _he_ was causing him to lose control and tucking it away for a rainy day. 

The bed shifted and Talon moved closer to him, starting up short, hard thrusts, already gasping for his breath against Damian's shoulder. A language Damian couldn't recognize flowed from his lips and Damian closed his eyes, shivering, knowing it was probably every compliment on the planet by the tone of his voice alone. Talon's hand wrapped around his cock again and Damian was gone; he was _falling_ , losing himself over Talon's fingers, damn near screaming his name, over and over without reserve.

Talon's hips stilled and Damian could feel the throb of his cock at his entrance, could feel the sensation of being _filled_ , and he damn near melted under it.

When he was gone, Damian damn near whimpered, couldn't hold back half of the sound at the deep feeling of _loss_ he felt in that instant. But then Talon's arm was around his waist, tugging him onto his side and drawing him back against his chest. 

They lay there for what felt like an eternity before Talon's quiet voice split the silence. "Was that your first time or are you always just that vocal?"

Damian's heart did a little frantic leap in his chest and he wet his lips before softly admitting, "I had never... until now."

Talon's fingers slid over his hip, gently caressing and it was such a sharp contrast to the desperate union of before that Damian had to clutch the sheet not to shiver beneath it. "Anytime you want this... I'm here."

Damian shifted in his arms, leaned back and twisted enough to reach his arm up and hook it behind Talon's neck, pulling him down enough to kiss the corner of his mouth, breathing out, "Yeah... same here."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta Readers: kate1zena  
> Song[s]: "Acid Rain [After Collision 2] (2016)" by Eminem & Linkin Park

Damian perched himself on the edge of the table, one foot propped up, knee bent so he could lean against it, the other leg dangling over the side, idly swinging back and forth. He chewed on his lower lip as he flicked through some data on the poisoned air he'd been collecting on the sly. Some part of him thought he could offer them a way to fix all of this if he ever got home, could send them pieces of things to improve the lives of the whole, now that he had to admit he was growing _invested_ in the situation. 

Leaning forward, he pressed his cheek to his knee, arching his back a little when a gentle hand came to lightly caress his back, not bothering to wipe the screen of the data.

"Trying to solve all of our problems while you're here?" Talon's fingers pushed up under his shirt, lingering against his skin for a moment and then disappearing as he moved to lean on his palms against the table, peering at the data. "You've got a lot more than we had before."

Damian pulled off his watch, holding it out to Talon. "Some things come with you through the Mother Box, working just fine... except the communications link it once had."

Talon pulled it from his hand, turning it in his hand, head canted slightly as he flicked through the screens on it, a certain amazement in his gaze. "The video relay is primitive in comparison to ours, but the sensors and data analysis tools are eons beyond us."

When he held it back out, Damian took it, fastening it back to his wrist. "Between Bruce and Tim we have some of the smartest engineers and programmers on the planet."

"Tim?" Talon pulled himself up on the table, hands curling over the edge of the metal. "I do not believe you've brought him up before."

Damian made a little sound in the back of his throat. "Another Robin before me. He and I... we only tolerate one another, but that does not prevent me from seeing him as the genius he is. Perhaps the smartest of us all."

"High praises for someone you _tolerate_." Talon offered up a small grin. " _Maybe_ you have moved past tolerance somewhere along the way, hmm?"

Damian let himself smile a little, shrugging one shoulder, leaning back over the table, moving some of the data around, trying to add up a solution still in the back of his mind. "It has been years since we last fought with one another. Though, we still do not talk." He left off the fact that if he never got back, they never would again; it left a slightly bitter feeling in his chest and he couldn't quite put a finger on why when it came to Tim. 

"While we're on it, besides the obvious two, is there anyone else you miss horribly since coming here?"

"Titus, the family dog. I miss his companionship." Damian flicked another piece of data to a different area, squinting at the screen. "He is getting older, perhaps on toward his end of years. I do not think I could bare it if he passes while I am away." The words were spoken casually despite the agony they seared across his heart and the way they closed off his throat as soon as they passed through.

Talon tilted his head back, gazing up toward the ceiling of the cave. "I miss people, every single day. It's not even discriminate at this point. This place, this life... it's lonely."

Damian gestured to close out the data, save it in the current format and push it back into his watch for storage. He sat up, pulling both legs up onto the table and sitting cross-legged. "If you could save it all... would you?"

"The world?" Damian nodded and Talon sighed, bowing his head, reaching to push one hand through his hair. "Honestly, I'm not sure. I don't know if they deserve it anymore."

Pain lanced through Damian at the idea that _Dick_ , of all people, could lose hope. He slid off the table, walking around to stand between his legs, drawing him forward, reaching up and cupping the back of his neck, leaning up to press their mouths against one another ever so briefly. The kisses were fleeting, the lightest of pecks and gentle nips... until they weren't. Before he realized what he was doing, Damian was untying the string on Talon's pants, was invading his mouth with his tongue. Everything went in an instant from placidity to chaos; hands everywhere, teeth clacking together as they damn near devoured one another. 

Damian's hand snaked into Talon's pants, grasped his already stiffened length and began to stroke, his touch impatient, as if there were some driving necessity that he get him off as quickly as possible. He could feel the way Talon was tensing under his touch, the way his hips flexed up into the touch as Talon sucked on his tongue in some lewd representation of what Damian could only _hope_ he wanted to do next.

Gasping, shuddering, Talon collapsed back against the table, his hips thrusting up against Damian's hand, meeting his touches until he was letting out a soft cry, cumming over his fist, cock throbbing in his hand. Damian stroked him through it, watching him in something akin to awe before he leaned over him, licking the head of his cock clean and then taking a step back, trying to decide what to do to clean his hand without leaving. 

The bitter flavor of cum on his tongue left him uncertain if he liked the taste or not. He swallowed again, reaching toward the hem of his shirt, pausing when Talon breathed out a quiet laugh. "The look on your face... for someone who does not show much except when you want to, you look completely undecided about that." Talon pushed himself up, holding out his hand. "I'll take care of it, don't ruin your shirt."

Damian took a step back in, resting his hip against the table as Talon carefully began to lick his hand clean, their eyes locked the entire time. When he was done, Talon smiled at him. His hands were on his hips and then he was easing him back, sliding down between him and the table, all the way to his knees, and Damian _knew_ what was coming. Hands shaking, he placed them on the table, hunched over to watch as Talon unfastened his pants, eased them open and freed his cock to the cool air of the room. He shuddered as the head of his prick slid past Talon's lips, watched as he began to bob his head, watching as long as he could before his eyelids fluttered closed and he simply _felt_. 

His breathing sped up and he bit back a groan, _knowing_ Thomas was somewhere around here and not at all wanting a potentially pissed-off, uninvited guest to their gratification. He shifted his hips, slowly moving against Talon's actions, sinking in and then pulling back out of that warm, wet mouth of his. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to hold back the moans that wanted out. "Moss ayri," he breathed out, his hips rolling a few times, his stomach quivering. Already, he was aching for his release, wanting to feel it just like this: right here, right into Talon's mouth. "Make me cum," he finally choked out, the words feeling foreign in English, so used to keeping his filthy mouth to his native tongue.

Talon's efforts redoubled and Damian had to slap his hand onto the table to keep back the cries of pleasure that wanted out. His muscles quivered and his eyes rolled back as his hips arched forward. All at once, he couldn't stop a single thing. His hand drove into Talon's hair, holding him still as he surged forward, again and again, and then he was losing himself, filling that glorious mouth with his release. Feeling him swallow around him, he kept him in place, hips rolling as he rode it out, giving him every single spurt of cum he had in him.

Finally, he pulled back, slumping over the table slightly to the side, trembling faintly, his legs feeling like gelatin. Talon stood, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth. He fixed his own pants and then slid up behind Damian, reaching to help him get back into his own. When he pulled him back against him, Damian could hear the smile in his voice. "You certainly know how to give a guy your cock... are you sure you didn't have more experience than you're letting on?" The words were teasing and Damian couldn't help but breathe out a faintly amused sound.

"No experience... just _years_ of pent up needs."

Talon's fingers splayed over Damian's belly, holding him as he rubbed his cheek lightly over his shoulder. "I'm gonna miss you when you leave."

"More like miss the sex," Damian returned, though there was a solemnness on his voice that was likely to betray just how attached he was already becoming to Talon. He wasn't _his_ Dick, but he was a beautiful soul in all of his own ways, and months with only him and Thomas as human company... it had, perhaps, been inevitable that he'd develop some form of affection for them.

Talon didn't reply, only held him tighter for a moment before he drew away, his footsteps retreating from the room, ever so intentional.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta Readers: kate1zena  
> Song[s]: "End of All Days" by Thirty Seconds to Mars

Damian sat on the top of one of the only tall buildings left in Gotham, his gaze searching the terrain, looking off toward what was left of Blüdhaven, mostly a still-smoldering hole in the ground. It bit a horrible hole in his gut to see it, to know that this reality was not so far from what could happen to them all if his world allowed it to happen. He'd been collecting data, squirreling it away in his watch, trying to understand everything that had happened in order to stop it from befalling his own world should they ever start down such a path. 

Tonight, he only sat here, not a single thought toward collecting any sort of data. The truth was, he was beginning to think of this as his home. After nearly a year, it was damn hard not to. When he allowed it to happen, his heart still ached over thoughts of Dick, over the loss of someone he'd never even had the chance to tell how he felt. But since he'd been here... since he'd allowed himself to start _feeling_ towards Talon, he honestly wasn't even sure he had a drive to get home anymore. At least, not for the reasons he once had. He wanted to give them information, to ensure they were still alive, that they had made it past such a crisis on their own; perhaps that his sacrifice had not been in vain. Though, he was beginning to realize that even if his own world had fallen that night, it held no bearing on his actions. He'd been _meant_ to arrive here, to find his way to this version of the world and stand beside those that had found him dying on the street. 

The wind shifted and Damian caught the barest hint of movement to his left: Owlman having found his perch. "Waiting on Talon to return," he offered quietly, nodding off toward Blüdhaven. "May I ask you something?"

The gravel of the rooftop crunched underfoot and then Thomas seated himself next to Damian. "You may."

"If he finds what he went for... if we pick up that trail tonight." He hesitated, uncertain how to offer his words, finding the phrasing he wanted before continuing. "If I left only to ensure my world was still alive and then I returned," he turned to look over at Thomas, "would I still be welcome?"

Thomas' hand came to gently rest on his shoulder, retreating an instant later. "You are always welcome here. I have come to consider you one of us." There was a pause that Damian knew was only that, not a conclusion so much as a necessity to gather his thoughts. "Talon, perhaps more so than he intended."

Damian gave a single nod of his head, looking back off toward the smoldering ruins of what had once been a beautiful place, much like the rest of this world. He felt it a representation of a great many things; while he'd never been the sentimental fool, he could almost have grasped onto it as a symbol of _absence_. He knew months' worth of being at Talon's side had afforded him a certain affection for him - different than the one he held for his world's version of Grayson - but deep and raw all the same. "My world... it is acceptable to me, requires me to a degree. But this world, it harbors a _real_ need for me... for all of us." He took in a slightly hitched breath, holding it for a moment before allowing himself to speak again. "I have done a great many things in my life that I regret. Enough so that I have a penance to pay for those actions. It's something that will never truly be complete, but here, I feel that my repayment hastens, as if my soul will have a chance if I remain."

Thomas' hand settled on his shoulder again, gripping tight, remaining longer than Damian expected him to allow. "Your soul has already healed, you simply have not caught up to that fact. The way you speak of your world's people, of those closest to you, it is as if you believe them higher than yourself. The truth is, you have leveled yourself with them long before you ever came here. You simply will not allow yourself to believe it. That is the burden of guilt." He squeezed hard enough to catch and hold Damian's attention of the sensation of it for an instant before he let go entirely. "There is an absolution in guilt when it is as great as yours. I have heard your words and I have seen your actions; they are not those of a criminal." Thomas stood, the faint flutter of his cape in the dying wind dredging up memories of another time, another place, and Damian closed his eyes to allow the resemblance to wash over him. "You have already been forgiven."

Just as quickly as he'd come, Owlman was gone, a rustle of something that could have been him but also nothing was the only thing he left behind. Damian bowed his head, keeping his eyes closed as he allowed himself to think, to consider his options more carefully than he'd allowed since he'd started to contemplate on this possible decision. 

His heart ached for his family, for his own world and all of the things he _knew_. He also understood that a year brought a lot of changes; especially a year in which he was very likely thought to be dead. His father could have been well into losing his mind by now - something he understood to have been Bruce's reaction the last time he'd lost him - and Dick could very well have not understood the implications of what Damian had told him before he'd disappeared. For all he knew, the world he returned to could very well be under the control of those who had threatened it when he'd given all he had for that world. 

Here, he had a _home_ , two people who cared very much about him and who he'd grown fond of. While it was entirely different than what he had on his world, he had come to find a certain comfort in it, had grown _used_ to the way of life here. He had Guardian and Talon and Thomas... and he had what he was starting to understand was an unconditional sort of love from Talon. It wasn't as if he didn't feel anything in return. Rather, he had begun to understand his own emotional attachment to him, had started to understand that there were a wide variety of ways to love someone and that what he had here was just as beautiful as what he felt for his world's Grayson. And - if he were honest with himself - the ache he felt for him had dulled over his time here, had been overwhelmed by a blossoming _hope_ every time he laid eyes on Talon. He'd never _replace_ how he felt for his Grayson and he understood he was, in no way, attempting to supplant his emotions for one into the other; the variance made certain of that. It was only that, no matter the world, it seemed a certain connection was fated to occur. 

Opening his eyes, he watched the darkened air roll in, quietly placed his rebreather over his mouth, and pushed himself up as he watched Talon's figure emerge from the inky blackness of it, nearly dragging his leg behind him. Damian grasped the metal piping beside him and launched himself over the edge of the building, heedless of the lack of line. He was growing used to it, to the element of unhinged parkour within this world. He slid down the pipe, feet catching every story on an attachment ring, forcing him to replace his grip and slide the next story. 

He hit the ground a fraction of an instant before Talon damn near collapsed on him. Hauling him up, he took in a deep breath and moved his mask from himself to Talon, holding it in place as they headed indoors. He got the door closed behind them, pinning Talon against the wall, helping to ease him down to sit, kneeling over him, hands instantly going to check how he'd been injured. 

Finally, Talon gave a cough and pulled the mask away from his face, breathing hard. "Gave my mask to... a child... she would have died. Hit wrong coming off... a building."

Damian reached up, pressing the mask back against his face, hitting the oxygen button on the side. "Keep that there. We can talk in a moment." He felt along his leg, finally deciding nothing was broken, only twisted. "You will not be running on this anytime soon."

Talon let the mask drop down again, a small - but sad - smile on his lips. "It doesn't matter. I... I did it." He pulled the bag strapped over his chest around to his side and unfastened it, pulling out another Mother Box. He pushed it into Damian's hands, reaching up to hook his arm around the back of his neck, dragging him down, kissing him hard. 

Damian could feel the hitch in his breath, could feel the emotional pain as if it were _tangible_. He drew himself closer to Talon, kissing him back in a way that he hoped belayed everything he'd come to feel. Their lips parted and Damian took a moment, collecting his thoughts, deciding how he wanted to tell him what he'd decided.

Before he could say a word, Talon was whispering against his lips, "I need you to know... even if _he_ does not," there was a break in his voice, a horrible crack that told Damian just how agonizing this moment was for him, " _I do_." With a shudder, Talon pushed him backwards, sent him stumbling toward the wall. "Box, take him _home_."

Damian didn't even get a breath in before he was being pulled away from him, the world sucking him up, left with the same sensation as the first time, only the pain was deeply emotional rather than physical. He landed hard on his knees in the alley beside a building, tears instantly streaming down his face. He gasped so hard he could barely find the oxygen to not pass out. Shaking, he fell back against the wall, _knowing_ the Box had only amplified what he'd already been feeling; that it would pass in a moment and he'd be left with a duller ache.

His head hit the wall and he let himself _feel_ all of it. The loss, the agony of a confession he'd _twice_ been denied. As it ebbed, retreating toward something that left him shaken, but not _broken_ , he focused on the task ahead of him. Find Bruce. Find Dick. And use the data he'd accumulated to build what was necessary and then return. 

Pushing himself to his feet, he tucked the Mother Box into his own shoulder bag and squared his shoulders. He had a hell of a job in front of him, but he'd be damned if he would fail.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta Readers: kate1zena  
> Song[s]: "5" by The Build

_When you need me, I will be the love beside you.  
-Poets of the Fall: Temple of Thought_

_Epilogue_

Damian stood within the Batcave, leaning against a cart full of everything he'd spent the last two months gathering up and building. He knew there was a danger to bridging the technological gap between the two places, but given that he'd also ended up with the pain relief glove in his belt when he'd crossed over, he found it to be a fair trade as long as the tech remained only in the hands of Bruce and Thomas and no one else. 

He lifted his head, smiled as he watched Dick and Wally banter at the far end of the cave, saw the way they smiled at one another. For once, he didn't feel jealousy, didn't even feel like he had to look away. This time, all he felt was a spread of warmth in his chest. There had been a point when he'd returned that he had deliberated telling Dick everything; about how he'd felt before he'd gone away and how much he'd missed him. Ultimately, he'd seen how happy Dick was with Wally and he didn't want there to be an ounce of hesitation in Dick's emotions for the other man, especially since Damian _knew_ who held his heart now and understood more fully than ever that it wasn't the Grayson he'd grown up beside. He still felt a rush of affection, a little flutter of his insides just watching him, but nothing rivaled the way his stomach twisted into knots when he thought of the absence of Talon in his life. 

He turned away, reaching an arm around Alfred, holding him close for a moment and breathing out, "I'll be back for your birthday, okay?" They parted and Alfred only nodded. Damian could see the carefully held in check emotions written all over him and he gave him a nod, turning away and stepping up to his father. Without so much as a single second of hesitation, he drew him into his arms, squeezing hard. "I will never fully leave your side, Father. I am but a step away whenever you need me and I expect you will visit sometimes." 

Bruce hugged him back harder than Damian thought he'd ever done before. They took a while before they parted, Damian stepping back, his hand on the cart as he pulled the Mother Box they'd found in the other Gotham free of his bag. He'd dressed back up into his Talon-like outfit again and he honestly found it more comfortable than his Robin outfit now. Dick raced across the room toward him, skidding to a halt a few steps away.

"Do you think I should be Owl-boy?" It was a joke, but he delivered it completely devoid of emotional impact, just to see Dick's reaction. He watched him fish-mouth for a moment and Damian couldn't help but smile at him. "Kidding. I will think of something less _lame_."

Dick huffed out a laugh, reaching to gather Damian into a hug, squeezing him hard enough Damian was sure his circulation was going to disappear. When he released him, Damian held out his arm toward Wally, gesturing him in. He came without question, easing into Damian's embrace, though Damian could feel the nervous energy radiating off of him. Bringing his lips close to his ear, he whispered, "I'm sorry for how I've treated you in the past. It was beyond reprehensible. I wish you all the happiness in the world." He let him go, giving him a small nod. "You deserve it."

For a moment Wally just stared at him and then gave him a soft, sad smile. "I think we all understood what was causing it. I only hope one day you too can find that happiness."

Damian gripped the cart harder, lifting his chin just the smallest amount. "You know, I already have." He watched Dick from the corner of his eye, seeing the relief flood over him. He knew then that nothing he'd ever done or said had escaped him; he'd always known and had simply never felt the same way. There was a certain sadness to that, but there was no bitter sting, no bite to the truth of things because, honestly, he'd moved on.

He let go of the cart, reaching for his father's hand, seeing the Mother Box in his hand. Both of them began pinging and Damian brought his close to his chest. "Take me to your last destination, Box."

This time when the suction of the void claimed him, Damian felt no pain, no amplification of agony spreading through him. Instead, he felt at peace, as if all were right in the multiverse, and when his feet hit the ground on the other side, he almost couldn't wipe the smile off of his face. He released his father's hand, watched him look around the cave in relative amazement. 

Feet rushed down the stairs and Damian called out, "Thomas?" The swish of a cape and then Thomas appeared right in front of them, his mask clutched in one hand, relief on his face. "Damian. And... is this...?"

Damian gave a small bob of his head. "Yes, this is my father. I... have a few items I'm bringing. I will return in a moment." He murmured, "Return," to the Mother Box. A few seconds later, he found himself back in the cave, a bunch of concerned faces staring at him. He gave them all a vaguely amused look. "It's fine. Everything is still okay." He placed his hand on the cart and glanced at everyone one last time. "Until next time..." he grinned then, uttering a quiet, "Last destination, Box."

With a snap, he was back and before he could register a single thing, he was being gathered up into someone's arms. It didn't take him but half a second to realize it was Talon, knowing the feeling of his arms like he knew his own existence. He relaxed into his embrace, closing his eyes as he rested his head on his shoulder, fingers gripping hard onto his shirt. He could hear the thready breaths Talon took, knew he was about five seconds from breaking down completely and he pulled back, took his face between his hands and kissed him hard on the lips, heedless of who was watching.

Drawing back just enough to look right into his eyes, he took a deep breath and steeled himself. And then, without any ounce of reserve, he laid himself bare before him. "Nothing in either world could have kept me away. Talon," he pulled him right back into his arms, eased himself against the one place he'd ever felt _this_ safe in his entire life, and allowed himself to speak the words he'd been denied so many times in his life already. "I love you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel: [From Ashes We Rise](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12458340)


End file.
